The Teaching Gene

My mom always claimed that the teaching gene skipped her. I disagree.

I've been studying for a certification quiz so that I can tutor for biology on Wyzant. Naturally, topics that fly through the course include genetics, which has me ruminating on words my mother always insisted was true. Her mother was a teacher in Russia; a very, very good teacher beloved by students and faculty, and had earned awards for her teaching. She cared about her students, made sure they ate and were able to focus in class and understand the subjects. My mother would say that whatever genes that made my grandmother such a good teacher must have skipped her, because she didn't think she could make such great success if she took on a similar role.

But I have to think, what makes a good teacher? What would be in those teaching genes? As a teacher myself now, being in gigs where I teach young children speech and debate and yoga, and soon will be teaching kids a business course and a fun wacky science course, I have the experience to answer that question a little.

One of the traits that make a good teacher is the ability to be versatile, to adapt to unforeseen circumstances and take advantageous of opportunities given. Little kids can be wild and most certainly bring unpredictability, especially when so many years have gone by in your life that you forget what it was like to be that young, carefree, and innocent. You didn't remember how loud you were, how many questions you had asked, and just how messy you could be. You didn't remember exacerbating your teachers, interrupting lessons, and quite possibly making your fellow classmates dislike you.

At least, I don't remember a lot of that. I'm pretty sure my class didn't make the substitute teacher cry. I've been bullied for a lot of things - most of them not in my control - but I don't remember doing something so specific that would make my classmates complain about me on a daily and talk about me as though my presence in the classroom was a catalyst for chaos. I do remember, however, the ways my teachers would try to get back our attention.

There's the counting down, the 'quiet coyote', the 'I'm going to be quiet until you all are quiet' stare of disapproval, the mom/teacher voice, and more. But there's also knowing when there are little chunks of time that you see students being more relaxed, more quiet, that you know you can fill in that spot with your teaching. Of course, being the teacher means trying to fill most of that hour with the students' education. But being a teacher to little kids means knowing that the best laid plans don't really survive past the first five minutes of a class period.

The versatility comes when you have to figure out how to answer questions and make every moment a learning moment for the kids, when you feel almost fraudulent in your own role. Who am I, to be a teacher? What was I thinking accepting this role? And then you have to be adept at improv, slipping on that mask of confidence for the kids that you know your homework and you know what you're talking about. The kids must believe it so that they'll listen to you, and you must believe it so that you can teach it to them. And of course, you really have to have a background in that subject or some pool of knowledge or else everything hits the fan and not even the kids are learning anything useful.

I've had this versatility since I was a kid, able to adapt to roles given to me and improv my butt off to make sure I excelled at the position I was given. Am I the presenter of the group? Then I sure as hell need to look confident. Am I the data taker? Then I sure as hell ain't missing any numbers. And if I had to impart some wisdom to someone older or younger than me? Then I was definitely going to be knowledgeable and wise. It's that quick thinking, that being-on-your-feet moment where you know you either rise up or fall. Part of that versatility is creativity, is spouting off ideas at the top of your head to solve the problem in front of you. That's a trait I was born with, and I swear my mother has the same thing.

She always had to think quick, to be adaptive to her situation to make sure she had the advantages. A new position or problem meant she'd do research, and just as I would she'd tear into books, devouring histories and theories and brainstorming ideas that would lead to progress and successful conclusions. For her, this trait was a matter of survival, of obtaining a career to take care of her family. So she mastered it. Now she does presentations as well, and imparts her knowledge and wisdom to her own mentees and audiences worldwide. It's not hard to see her as a teacher, even if she doesn't think herself as one. Her only flaw in this regard is that she doesn't like writing. I, on the other hand, can write all day easily.

I may have the better education than her on how to impart knowledge and communicate with others, but I know that she also has the genetic tools of teaching that her mother has. She's creative, resourceful, persistent, and versatile.

She's also stubborn like me, which is why she and I can get into so many arguments. I won't pretend that I didn't have bad days with her. She's my mom. It's going to happen.

The other day she told me she was proud that I got the gene, that I was naturally a teacher like her mother and that my gifts were shining through in all this worldly chaos. I'm happy to have this gene, but I also want her to know she gave it to me. It didn't skip the line. She has it as well.